The Pros And Cons Of Breathing
by GraysonsLittleBird
Summary: Tragedy has befallen the Bat Family. A death nobody was ready for. How will they cope? How will Bruce be there for his children, while trying to hold himself together? Will the Wayne household ever be okay? / Character Death
1. Chapter 1

**A/N So, in light of me discovering Batman Incorporated #8, and the death of me beloved Damian Wayne, I've decided to take my own spin on things at how I think they would react and (maybe) come together to pull through it. Reviews and Feedback are plenty welcome!**

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A loud scream rippled through the empty hallways of Wayne Manor, a gut wrenching sob followed it.  
Alfred Pennyworth rose from his slumber, sweat dripping from his face, the scream ripping him from sleep.  
The older man tore the sheets off him. Stepping into his slippers, he draped his house coat over his frail frame, before rushing out into the cold hallway.

"Master Bruce?", he called, trying his best to follow the loud wails.

He walked to the main hall, nothing.  
The foyer, nothing.

"Master Richard? Master Damian?"

He called again, frantic for a response.  
After calling out for Damian, whoever it was let out another wild scream. There was sounds of a struggle, followed by more sobbing.  
Alfred stopped for a brief moment, reaching behind an umbrella stand for a well concealed crow bar. He didn't know what was happening, but it sounded awful.  
He thought, for a quick moment, about calling Bruce, or using his emergency signal to contact someone, but when he traced the wails coming from in the walls, and further down into the Cave, he knew it wouldn't be nessecary.

The ride down seemed longer than usual. He had been up and down a thousand times, but none had ever taken this long. Did he press a wrong button? He wondered.  
As he awaited his destination, thoughts raced through his mind;  
Something had gone wrong on patrol, it must have.  
Was someone hurt?  
No, he would have been warned of that, he always was.  
Was the fight brought home?  
Was Master Damian in trouble for running out?  
It was Alfred's fault for letting him out, he knew that, that mess would be cleared up in no time.  
Was Master Damian fighting with Timothy again?

The elevator came to a halt, a lump setting in Alfred's stomach.  
There was a sharp 'ding', and the silver doors parted, opening up the Bat Cave to the Butler.  
What he saw next was something he wasn't prepared for.  
Dick, still dressed in his Nightwing uniform with his mask thrown to the side, was the one in hysterics, stumbling about the cave, throwing what he could touch, and often falling and letting out a loud scream, his hands grabbing fist fulls of his hair.

Bruce tried to keep up with him, tears streaking his face, his cowl, also thrown to the side.  
Off to the right, where the medical station was set up, a small figure laid upon the gurney with the standard white blanket laid over it. The majority of the white blanket was stained red, and though Alfred stared at the blanket intently, waiting for the presumed chest to rise and fall...but it never did.  
Stepping out of the elevator, his legs weighing more with every movement forward, Alfred made his way into the horrifying scene.

He scanned the cave for the younger Wayne, but he wasn't to be found. Time slowed, and he was suddenly very concious of his breathing and blinking.

"I-I'm sorry,", Alfred cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the two hysterical men, "B-But where is M-Master Damian?"

Deep inside, he knew the answer, his voice quivered, threatning to break. But he had to know, he needed to know.  
Bruce looked up at the old man, his eyes swollen from crying.

"I'm so sorry Alfred,", he choked, "I'm so sorry."

Dick let out another wail, and Alfred fell to his knees, the crowbar clattering to the floor. He slowly moved his eyes over to the blanketed corpse, and an ugly sob managed to escape before he could clasp his hand over his mouth. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and his thoughts became hazed.  
This was a joke, surely it had to be, yes, a sick sick joke. But Dicks wails proved otherwise.  
It was true.

Damian Wayne was dead.

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**A/N ;-; Poor Dick :c Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Here is another chapter.**

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Dick Grayson lay completely still in his bed, the sheets made up perfectly underneath him. His vision took longer than normal to focus, and his body reacted to every muscle like a stranger, all clear answers that Bruce had him sedated.  
Why would he have him-Oh.  
Tears welled up in his eyes, and slid down the side of his face.  
Damian.  
He couldn't wrap his mind around, and the boys absence sat like a giant gaping hole in his chest.  
Images flashed in his mind. Everything happened so fast.  
Heretic had thrown him across the room, challenging the younger boy to a sword duel, and before he could get on his feet, the sword ripped through his chest.  
Dick choked a sob, and curled into himself.  
It was his fault. If he was stronger, if he had gotten to Heretic faster...but he didn't. He failed his partner, his brother.  
He'd rushed over to Damian's side as quickly as he could, but the only thing left to do was helplessly watch his brothers life leave his eyes.  
_"Was I-...Was I-?"_  
Dick shook the memory from his mind.  
Emotion surged through his body, emotions he'd never felt, emotions he didn't know how to explain or express. So instead, he gripped his sheets and let out the loudest scream he could muster before relinquishing himself over to his sobs.

Feet padded the floor approaching his room, and before he had time to react, the door burst open, a flood of light pouring in with the silhouette at the door.

"Dick!?", the voice called, "My God, what the hell is wrong? Are you okay?"

The hysterical man sat up in his bed, forcing himself to greet the unwanted guest, but his body began to tremble, when his eyes fell on him, his lips quivered, and tears poured from his eyes.

"I just got here, sorry I'm late for patrol,", the voice continued, "I've been looking everywhere for Bruce, hell I couldn't even find Alfred.", he chuckled.

Dick shook his head, and he began to hyperventalate. He couldn't do this.  
Tim stood in front of him, completely baffled by the scene in front of him. He didn't know. He was completely oblivious. Dick choked.

"I jus-Tim-Oh god,", Dick couldn't even form a sentence without crumbling.

"Okay,", Tim snapped, "What the hell is going on? What's wrong with you?"

He retreated a couple steps backwards, and reached for the bedroom light. He hit the switch, and light exploded throughout the room, causing Dick to slightly wince.

"Jesus!", Tim cursed, "Dick you look like..", he stopped, "Where's Bruce?"

Dick shook his head, reaching out for his younger sibling.  
Bruce couldn't be the one to do it, sadly the man had no tact.  
Tim walked towards him carefully.

"Dick what happened? Is Alfred okay?", he asked sitting at the edge of the giant bed.

The older Robin nodded, taking Tims hand in his own.  
By this time, it was safe to say Tim was completely and utterly confused. Never, Ever in his life had he ever seen Dick like this.  
He looked at his older brother, and it didn't take him more than a minute to notice the blood on the sheets around them, and the awkward spatter on Dicks face.  
Immediatley Tim pulled away.

"What did you do?", he asked, his voice level now.

This only caused Dick to cry harder.

"It's Damian.", the deep voice came from the doorway.

Tim jumped, and turned quickly to find Bruce in the doorway. Tim got off the bed, and walked over to Bruce.

"What do you mean it's Damian? What's happening?"

Bruce sighed calmly, doing what he could to avoid Dick. He couldn't see him right now. It would destroy him further.

"Just come downstairs. Jason is on his way. We need to talk."

Dick stayed upstairs, locked away in his room while they waited at the dining room table for Jason.  
Tim was sitting alone with Bruce, in the dining room; not even Alfred was present.  
What the hell did he get himself into this time? Tim thought.  
Whatever it was, it was serious. Bruce never called 'family' meetings.  
Tim snickered to himself at the thought of the little snot in trouble. Bruce was definatley not a father you wanted to be grounded by.  
Breaking the silence, was the slamming of the dining room doors as Jason waltzed through.

"What the hell is wrong now?", Jason whined, "I was in the middle of a case, and I get called in cause the little brat decided to act out?"

He pulled out the middle chair on the left side, opposite Tim, while Bruce took a deep breath. Trying to collect himself.

Tim snickered.

"No really,", Jason said seriously, "I don't have time for whatever tantrum he decided to pull. Besides, where is the little snot anyway? And Dickie Bird?"

Bruce slammed his fist down on the table.

"Shut up!", he boomed.

Tim jumped, and looked for Jason for...well anything really. Jason just shrugged.

"Jeeze, Bruce,", Jason giggled, "What's got your bat panties in a twist?"

His smile faded when he looked back over at Bruce, and noticed tears streaming down his rugged face.

"I didn't call you here because D-Dam...because your brother was in trouble..", Bruce couldn't even bring himself to say his name. It hurt too much.

"As you know,", he continued, "Dick had finally tracked down Heretic, and had gone after him tonight.", he took a deep breath, "I don't know how...I just...", he exhaled, "Damien had decided to go as well. Without permission."

There was plenty room for a snide remark, but the tone in the room had the two boys quieter than an empty house.

"There was a scuffle, and Di-Nightwing,", he corrected himself, his words becoming harder to form, "was knocked to the side, leaving Damian and Heretic to their own fight."

"Of course, and the little bird screwed it up,", Jason scoffed.

Bruce shot him his final warning, but Jason ignored him.

"You can glare at me all you want old man," Jason stood up, "I've always told you and Dickie you were too leniant with him. If he screwed up this tim-"

"Damian's dead, Jason.", Bruce cut him off harshly.

The room fell silent for what seemed like forever.  
Tim wracked his brain trying to put two and two together, but it wasn't happening. His mind was blank. Damian? Dead?  
Jason looked confused for a second, before cracking a smile and bursting out into a roar of laughter.  
Bruce closed his eyes, breathing in and out calmly.  
Jason nearly fell over, he was laughing so hard.

"Oh come on,", he said between fading giggles, "I know we've been telling you to get a sense of humor, but that was just too much."

Bruce looked up at his son.

"I'm sorry Jason, it's not a joke. During the fight with Heretic he was...he didn't make it."

Jason wiped the tears from his eyes, sitting back down.

"Yeah yeah, where is he?"

"He's dead, Jason.", Bruce replied, looking at Tim for any kind of response, but the younger boy didn't move. His face was blank.

"Okay, it's not funny anymore,", Jason's voice was clear of any joking now.

Bruce stood up to approach him.

"I'm sorry Jason, I'm so-"

But before he could reach him, or even finish his sentence, Jason was on his feet and in one swift movement, he flipped the dining room table, causing Tim to quickly retreat to a corner, and dissolve into a puddle of quiet tears.

"Shut up!", Jason boomed, tears threatned to spill, "I told you it wasn't funny, so shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

He kicked down the chair and stormed out of the room, and soon after, the house.  
Bruce was left with one bird in the corner, and the distant sobs of Dick dancing throughout the halls.

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**A/N This is my first time really writing out the whole Bat Family. I hope I captured them well! **

**Please review! Feedback and requests are more than welcome! :) **


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